Melissa Donais -- 1st Half-Marathon
Melissa made her half-marathon debut on January 10, 2009, at the Disney Half-Marathon in Florida.
I'm a miler. At least that's what spectators shout to me in the homestretch of my races. Since I hold the All-time Area Record (4:53) in the mile it has become my reputation. I, however, consider myself a 5k runner. There is something about those 3.1 miles that suits me well; I love running hard in the first mile, pushing the second, hanging on for dear life in the third, and turning on the jets to finish fast in the final 0.1. So how did this miler turned 5k runner find herself on the starting line of the Disney half-marathon?
Part of it was peer pressure: when all your friends run marathons you start to believe that a half is the least you can do. But more than peer pressure was the realization that competitive 5k runners run at least eighty miles per week, and my measly forty to fifty miles per week were not going to cut it in the competitive arena. Training for a half-marathon would give me a goal, something to look forward to, as I beefed up my training.
It was a cool, crisp morning, perfect running weather, as I stretched on the starting line. Thanks to my speedy times in shorter distances I had an elite number and a spot on the starting line next to a 2008 Olympian and runners from the elite Hansons-Brooks team. I felt like I had the whole world in the palm of my hand, I felt fast, and I knew I could win.
The start went off in a blaze of fireworks as I cruised into the first mile. I felt so comfortable that I actually held a conversation with some of my competitors, and felt strong when I hit 6:10 for the mile. As I headed into the second mile I picked up the pace a notch and joined a group of guys so I could draft off them and expend less energy. A Kenyan woman was ahead of me, but I was running in second place and feeling thrilled with myself; not bad for a rookie!
The guys and I passed mile two in 12:15. So far everything was going perfectly as planned: go out conservatively, settle into six-minute pace. I thought, "This is great! I feel strong and I'll pick off that Kenyan woman as I kick to the finish!" I envisioned myself breaking the tape in first place with a sea of confetti floating down on me.
That vision didn't last long. Two and a half miles into the race my entire abdomen cramped up. Thinking it could be nerves I tried to relax, but the cramps were relentless. Slowly I lost contact with the group of guys and found myself running in no-man's land. The race started at 5:50AM, so I could only see the large reflective cones that lined the course as I raced alone on a dark service road. I pressed both hands into my stomach in an attempt to ease my abdominal cramps. I groaned when I realized I had nine miles left to race.
From the service road the course turned and suddenly I was met by a wall of lights, people, and noise. I was running down Main Street, USA towards Cinderella's Castle with spectators in rows four deep shouting encouragement. Rather than raise my spirits, however, the sensory stimulation made me feel dizzy and sick. I wanted to cover my eyes and curl up into a ball. Thankfully, the course soon veered off into a quieter section of the park, but not before two women passed me. I was fourth, but hopeful that if my cramps subsided I could regain my second-place spot.
By mile eight my abdominal cramps finally left, but they were replaced by fatigue. I was surprised at how much my feet ached and how stiff my legs had become. In training for the half I reached a high week of sixty-three miles, one of my longest weeks ever, and a long run of two hours and ten minutes, by far my longest run ever. Heading into the race, this training gave me confidence. Now I thought sixty-three miles wasn't nearly enough to sustain me through a competitive half-marathon. I realized I hadn't given the half the respect it deserved. Perhaps I could run a decent 5k on talent and modest mileage, but races with double-digit mileage are an entirely different beast.
My split through nine miles was 57 minutes. I had fallen way off pace. At that point, however, I was less concerned about pace and more concerned about finishing. I didn't think my legs could take much more. Just then, another woman passed me. My legs were simply too tired to counter her move. I was now in fifth place.
I thought about my beloved 5ks and wondered why I ever ventured this far from my comfort zone. I thought about going home and angrily telling my coach that I would never run a race longer than 10k ever again. This half-marathon felt less like running and more like survival. I wanted to go back to the running I knew and loved.
Around mile eleven I was so physically and emotionally depleted that I began to cry. The miles seemed like they were getting farther and farther apart. I was passed yet again at mile twelve. Sixth place. I felt demoralized. I looked behind me to see if any other women were coming and realized that even if I had a woman right on my shoulder I had no fight left in me.
The race made a final loop through Epcot as the sky glowed pink with the sunrise. I turned a corner and there, like a miracle, was the finish line. In an instant, all the emotions I felt during the race, both good and bad, returned. Adrenaline pumped through my veins and gave me the long lost energy I needed to surge to the line. As I ran, with feelings of disbelief and utter joy I cried, "I made it! I made it!" Race volunteers placed a Donald Duck medal around my neck and took my picture. One volunteer gushed, "You are so fast! You were one of the top women! Will you be back next year? I bet you could win it!"
I smiled and, without hesitation, exclaimed "Yes! I will be back!"
[Melissa Donais, January 12, 2009]
